


I'll Catch You Mid Fall(Always)

by mobilisinmobili



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Arrested, Bad Decisions, Bad Parenting, Big Brothers, Blackmail, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, Family Dynamics, Fever, Friendship, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Injury Recovery, Intervention, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Podium Family, Poor Yakov Feltsman, Protective Victor Nikiforov, Psychological Trauma, Puberty, Sickfic, Supportive Victor Nikiforov, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Yakov Feltsman Is So Done, one phone call
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2019-11-14 07:09:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18047909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mobilisinmobili/pseuds/mobilisinmobili
Summary: 5 Times Victor was like a brother, and the 1 time he was a father..or.A collection of one-shots of Victor and Yuri's relationship





	1. Little Tipsy I

**Author's Note:**

> Ignore the time inconsistencies between Victor and Christophe!

The past two weeks had gone by in a blur of hardcore practices, interviews, and obligatory social events; all which were slated back to back leaving little to no time for rest. Particularly sleep.

Victor wasn’t positive when the last time he had slept less than four hours a day was. Probably some time in the very distant past when he had an unlimited amount of energy to spare. A couple nights of little to no sleep was _nothing_ back then, but now, twenty some odd years later, he could practically _feel_ his body breaking down slowly from sheer exhaustion. But he knew all of the things that had been keeping him awake were necessary sacrifices for him to continue skating, and for skating he’d do _anything._

Which is why he deemed it necessary to set five back to back alarms so that he could wake up and do it all again even though the last thing he wanted to do was leave his bed. The one with a four inch memory topper that made him feel like he was sinking into a cloud, covered by a soft duvet that kept him nice and cozy, protecting him from the coldness that permeated his place.

That and the fact that he finally got to cuddle up next to Yuuri whos quiet breathing lulled him into the sweet embrace of sleep.

But his peaceful dip into unconsciousness was shattered by his phone, which had started to ring _very_ loudly.

His eyes flew open as he lunged to grab the dang thing and shut it off before it woke Yuuri.

And he almost did just shut the thing off before his brain realized what he was seeing on the screen.

**-02:00-**

**Incoming call: Yurochka**

He hesitated for a split second before answering, padding quietly out of the room and into the hall.

He had a terrible feeling about this…

“Hello?” Yuri’s tone set him on edge. It sounded too… too not Yuri. He sounded confused.

“Yuri? What’s wrong? It’s two in the morning. You’ve got practice at 6.” he winced as his brained processed that fact.

“Can you come get me?”

“What?”

“I said, can you c-come get me?”  

And that’s when he noticed.

Yuri was slurring his words.

He paused momentarily as his brain raced to figure out what was wrong.

“Where are you right now?” he hurried back to his room to grab a jacket and his keys, fighting to keep calm.

“I’m-they put me in a holding cell.”

Victor froze momentarily before rushing out the door to his car.

“Who put you in a holding cell? Is it near the rink?” he prodded for Yuri to answer as he turned the ignition on, putting on a seatbelt before racing out of the garage.

“Yeah? Ac-actually, I don’t know. No one told me” he sounded genuinely sad.

This was _not_ good.

“Is there someone you could ask?”

“Hold on.”

He heard movement on the other side before a new voice chimed in.

“Hello. This if officer Vasiliev. I’m going to assume you’re coming for Yuri?”

“I will be, but I need to know where to go.”

“He’s being kept in a local police department. It’s a few blocks from that huge ice rink.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

There was an affirmative grunt on the other hand.

“Is he.. Okay?” Victor asked as calmly as he could, feeling a knot begin to form in his stomach.

“To be completely honest, I’m surprised he’s still conscious. The kid must have an insane metabolism.”

That did absolutely _nothing_ to soothe Victor’s worry as he stepped on the gas just a little more, not caring at all about the red light he had just run.

“Metabolism?” In all honesty, he was a little scared to find out what exactly it was that the officer was talking about.

“He got caught an hour after someone realized who he was. According to the officer that was dispatched, he apparently snuck in to see a friend and ended up accepting a drink from someone.

The person who recognized him called the cops on him for underaged drinking and breaking and entering.”

Victor sucked in a sharp breath.

“And then the officers found a baggie of  marijuana in his pocket.”

He almost slammed on the brakes.

“ _Excuse_ me? They found _what?”_

“About twenty grams of weed laced with what looked like prescription pain pills.”

There was another lull in the conversation as Victor tried to wrap his sleep deprived mind around the current, very surreal situation.

“But we can discuss things in depth when you get here.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you. I’ll be there soon.”

Victor sighed, stepping on the gas just a little further, hoping to all that is good that the migraine he felt taking hold would stay at bay just until he got Yuri back home.

* * *

 

“Mr. Nikiforov. Pleasure to meet you.” Loitin reached out a hand which Victor shook with a small smile.

“If you’ll follow me.” the man lead Victor down the corridor into one of the holding cells, clipboard in one hand and key in the other.

“The moment Victor laid his eyes on the ruffled mess that was 17 year old Yuri Plisetsky, or more accurately, his emotionless drug induced gaze that landed on him the moment the door was opened, he had to fight the urge to confront the teen directly with the anger and concern that was growing.

He’d have time for that later. The most important thing was making sure Yuri was alive and that he was taken home, partially because Victor would never forgive himself for making Yuri stay in a _cell_ of all places overnight. But mostly do to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to focus without knowing that he could be in arms distance within a minute just in case anything truly bad happens.

He’d seen it before. Kids who binge drank and promptly passed out only to be abandoned by friends who’d later regret not being there to save their friend’s life.

That would _absolutely_ not do.

Because right now, it didn’t matter that he wasn’t going to be able to go to bed tonight or that his day would be packed and oh-so draining.

Right now his brain was trying its best not to panic because Yuri was safe, more-or-less, running through a mental list of things he’d have to do once the let Yuri out.

“However-” It was enough to snap Victor out of his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“We’ve gone over the security footage of where Yuri had been and we noticed that someone, we aren’t sure who, dropped something into the his drink. We assume it's some sort of narcotic. Probably molly.”

Victor’s breath faltered as he turned his gaze back to the blond who was slumped up against the wall, legs outstretched and hands in his hoodie pocket, looking like he was going to pass out at any moment.

“But we also found a very brief clip, but it’s grainy and you can’t really see too much.”

The officer grimaced.

“We brought him in on account of underaged drinking and breaking and entering, but also with possession of a illicit substance.”

Victor could swear the man’s voice was getting smaller and smaller as he felt the world begin to move.

And then it was gone, and clarity came back to Victor all at once.

“But in going over that clip, we have reason to believe that someone planted the week on him.”

Victor could feel his gut twisting as things began to click into place.

Someone specifically chose to drug and plant something on Yuri

But what was their motive?

He didn’t owe anyone anything, and he rarely went out in the first place, so there was no plausible reason as to target Yuri, especially amongst the hundreds of legal individuals at the club.

Yuri startled awake at the sound of Victor’s phone’s  notice tone.

He hesitated before unlocking and clicking on the instagram app before tensing, jaw working ,as genuine anger began building in his gut.

“It was a set up.” Victor turned to the officer, showing the man his phone so that he could see the two photos and caption.

The first one was taken from the side with Yuri perched on a bar stool sitting criss cross, drink in one hand with the other fiddling with the ties of his hoodie. It looked like he was sipping the drink while focusing somewhere towards the front. There was a hint of a smile around the straw.

What was most concerning was the fact that his red and white  hoodie _clearly_ had the ‘Team Russia’ mark on the front. The hoodie that he was given after they had finalized the team roster.

He held his breath before swiping over to the second photo, and really honestly wished that he hadn’t

This one was taken nearly face to face with the photographer standing marginally to the side to include the handcuffs, K9, and police who was right behind him, guiding the teen out.

**_-Well, I guess even #national athletes do dumb shit too. I mean, come on #Plisetsky, I’m sure you know that these things can ruin your career._ **

He scrolled down to see that it had unfortunately already spread, and _everybody_ had something to say.

“Excuse me. I have a call I need to make”. And with that he marched off with phone in hand.


	2. Little Tipsy II

Yakov blanched as Victor gave him the rundown of what had occured after they had posted bail and got Yuri safe and sound in bed at Victor and Yuuri’s guest bedroom, checking up on him every so often to make sure he didn’t hurt himself.

“They said that they had proof that it wasn’t him” Yakov raised his voice just a fraction, still considered to be a whisper.

“They said the proof was shoddy and that it would probably not hold up in examination. “

They fell into a tense silence before Yakov sighed rubbing at his temples.

“The rink’s sponsors are supposed to meet us for lunch tomorrow. They’re going to know what happened by then.” Victor admitted quietly, racking his brain to find anything that could help their current situation.

But beyond that, the fact that someone had really spiked Yuri’s drink was worrying. Especially if they knew who he was to begin with. They’d know that he was underaged.

It bothered Victor.

It awakened the protective streak in him, something he could only think of as something most similar to a big brother’s protectiveness.

In all honesty, with the number of years he had known Yuri, he felt that he could say that he felt that sort of connection.

And the fact that someone had messed with someone so close to him ignited a fire of vengeance.

In a way it was a little terrifying how ready he was to stomp whoever it was that messed with Yuri.

But he had to find them first. Which, in all honesty, wasn’t the best idea, but he was beyond caring at this point.

So once Yakov bid farewell around four, he _officially_ put his plan into action, scrolling through his contacts, trying to piece together how he was going to go about this. But he did know one thing.

The moment he figured out who it was, the bastard would pay. He was ready to sacrifice a season for this.

 

Yuuri ended up staying home to make sure Yuri was okay and staying hydrated as he slept through the worst of the drug induced haze.

Victor had been reluctant to go, but he knew that they would be specifically looking for him, especially now that he was back in competition mode as opposed to coaching.

They’d want to know his plans and themes and all of the things he had already told multiple interviews with multiple news/radio stations.

But he knew that he needed those sponsorships to keep what he was doing, so he gritted through, reminding himself that it was only going to be around three hours.

And then he wouldn’t have to see them for another year.

Which was what he was repeating to himself during the entire drive to the rink, as he parked, and as he walked in, wiping all signes of irritation and putting on his camera face.

He didn’t mind having to do things like this, but at the current moment, with everything that had happened in the past couple of hours, he felt on edge and ready to jump into his goal of catching the bastard(s) who hurt Yura.

Which was exactly what the sponsors had opened with, looking _particularly_ bemused.

“We would like a full explanation. It’s all over the web.”

“While it is true that Yuri did sneak into that club, someone drugged him. We have reasons to believe that the same person who slipped a Molly into his drink is the same person who bought the drink for him in the first place, and also the same person who planted the drugs on him.”

Victor explained solemnly.

“The police have stated that they have seen inconsistencies in the video surveillance that would prove that the drugs were planted and that someone had in fact drugged him.”

The sponsors nodded, mulling things over/

“With that being said, in this case, Yuri is a victim. He’s currently recovering from whatever it was that was given to him. We’re waiting for the bloodwork to come back, but as you know, he’s a competitive athlete. He’s not someone who would just indulge in recreational drugs of any sort.”

Victor leaned forward

“And for the alcohol-” he shrugged “I mean, He’s a couple of months from being completely legal, and he doesn’t drink on the regular, _and_ he’s _Russian._ Come on now.. You’ve got to admit that that’s the least of the worries.” That brought about a round of good natured laughter from the group.

“And I say this because I know Plisetsky. I’ve known him for years. We’ve trained together, and he’s a world ranked skater. That doesn’t happen without self discipline. He might still be a teenager, but he loves skating too much to do something so risky.”

Yakov nodded in agreement.

“The person he was trying to meet was Otabek Altin. I’m sure you all have heard of him. They are good friends, and it just happened that Mr. Altin’s coach requested he be able to skate under my coachship for a week. Plisetsky didn’t know yet. It was out of the blue and he got excited, which is understandable. He trains, what-” Yakov glanced over at Victor “Six on ice and another four off?” Victor nodded.

“That’s not counting lunch breaks and interviews and sponsorship things.”

“So, as you may imagine, he doesn’t really have time to hang out with friends.”

There was a beat of consideration before one of the sponsors spoke.

“Look, we understand. To be completely honest, apart from the whole drug charge, the situation itself is understandable. He’s a teenager. We’ve all been there. But we need to know that this won’t affect Plisetsky’s skating this season and the next.”

Victor didn’t hesitate to respond.

“Yuri has been working very hard on his current programs. He’s pushing himself to be able to perform some of my own personal combinations, which I am actually very excited to see, but also, he’s been working very closely with Katsuki to further his choreo. From what I’ve been seeing, this season’s program is nothing short of _amazing._ You won’t have to worry about that.”

There was a grunt of agreement from Yakov as Victor snuck a quick glance down at his phone before clasping his hands together

“So with all of that being said, I apologize for the abruptness, but I have to go. Yuri just woke up.” he scooted his chair back before collecting the folders and his phone.

He squeezed Yakov on the shoulders, leaning in to tell him he’d be here for practice in an hour or two before rushing out, completely oblivious to Yakov’s giant eye roll.

He really was getting too old for this…

 

Victor burst through the door a bag of groceries in hand

“Yuuri? I’ve brought soup. Should I heat it up?”

There was a beat of silence before he heart several thumps followed by worried orders.

“Wait! Yuri! You should get some more r-”

He heard a hard thump near the stairs before hearing the sound of something sliding on the railing against the wall.

And within moments he was met with a disheveled teen with Yuuri trailing worryingly behind.

“You should get some more rest, Yura. Your body is-”

“Who the _fuck_ was it?!” he snarled, leaning heavily against the wall. Victor took a moment to mentally thank the hospital staff for helping the blonde change into some sweats and a hoodie before sending him home because he wasn’t sure if he would have been able to stomach the sight of Yuri so… out of it wearing what he had been, a big blaring target for anyone to come by and aim at. Just because of that one little logo and all of the connotations that went with it. It brought Victor’s blood back to simmering.

“We don’t know yet.” he managed evenly.

Yuri narrowed his eyes, anger and hurt obvious in the way that he slumped just a little further onto the wall.

Victor made momentary eye contact with Yuuri who looked equally as concerned but unsure as to whether he should actually touch Yuri.

Victor took a step forward and _immediately_ regretted it the moment he saw Yuri flinch back. It wasn’t huge but it was something.

“Yura. We’re working on it. I promise. I will find the person responsible for this. But for right now you’ve got to rest.”

The blonde began to flag, but Victor couldn’t catch him in time, sending the blonde sliding down the wall until he was on the ground in a ball.

His breaths were coming fast.

Victor looked to Yuuri  in panic.

“Yura? Yura. Please, talk to me.” he knelt on the ground next to the blonde, hesitating before scooping the limp teen into his arms.

Which happened to help because within seconds Yuri’s hands clutched onto Victor’s sleeve for dear life as he continued to hyperventilate, hot tears leaking out of his tightly closed eyes.

“F-following m-me”he managed out

Victor froze, turning to Yuuri questioningly.

Yuuri in turn shook his head.

This was new information.

Victor slowly returned to running his hands gently through Yuri’s hair, mumbling quietly in Russian until he could feel the teen’s breathing returning to normal.

And all at once, he went limp, head lolling against Victor’s shoulders.

“Yuri? Yuri! Yura. Wake up.” he tapped Yuri’s cheek a few times.

“Call an ambulance!” Yuuri was already up and moving.

“Scratch that. They’re going to take too long.”

Yuuri understood right away, letting Victor pass through before shutting the door and running ahead to open the door for Victor who slid Yuri in gently.

“I’ll ride in the back with him.”

Victor nodded, fishing his keys out of his pocket, hands shaking slightly as he rammed the keys in and started the engine before racing out of the drive way and onto the road well beyond the appropriate speed limit to the nearest emergency room.

 

The three hours it took before some kind nurse finally came out of Yuri’s room room to explain the situation was definitely _the_ worst three hours of Victor’s life. He sat there, unable to stop the tremors as he scrubbed at his face.

He knew he looked awful. Red rimmed eyes and disheveled hair.

He knew people were staring. Pretty sure he saw a few people actually try and take a _secret_ photo or two once they noticed who exactly it was that was sitting out in the hall on some _very_ uncomfortable chairs looking like hell.

But at the moment, he in all honesty couldn’t bring himself to care.

He’d seen nurses rush by with oxygen tanks and IV racks and needles, shutting the door behind them as to keep everything contained.

Yuuri had had the presence of mind to call Yakov who rushed over and sat next to Victor, being the strong one for all of them.

Three hours of utter terror was ended when the nurse finally allowed them inside the room.

But the moment his eyes landed on Yuri, he turned right around,squatting against wall with his face buried in his hands.

“Victor.” he could feel Yuuri’s warm embrace around him before he felt his hands being guided away from his face.

Yuuri wiped away the tears that had leaked out, cradling his face in his hands before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“He’s alive, Victor. He’s breathing. He’s just sleeping. It’ll be ok.”

“He’s just a kid.” Victor’s voice broke, a reservoir of emotions came crashing down.

“It shouldn’t have been him…” it was quiet but Yuuri heard.

“It shouldn’t have been anyone, Victor. But life is cruel sometimes.”

Victor melted into the embrace, mumbling into Yuuri’s chest.

“It could have been me. It should have been me. I-I-they picked him because someone assumed something. I actually got married. We kissed on world tv. He’s just a _kid.”_ Victor repeated, unable to staunch the fresh flow of tears.

“Whoever picked him is a coward.” Yuuri ran his hands through the silver locs.

“But you can’t blame yourself. This is _not_ your fault.”

Victor tensed before shaking harder.

Yuuri pulled him away at arms distance, looking into pained eyes.

“I know it hurts, but for right now, we’ve got to be strong for Yuri. He looks up to you, Victor. He’s going to need someone by his side when he wakes up.”

Victor nodded, taking a deep breath as he wiped away the remaining tears, running both hands down his face.

Yuuri leaned in for another gentle kiss.

“Just a little longer. We’ll be strong for Yuri and then we can cry.”

Victor gave an affirmative nod before picking himself up.

He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself the best he could before making his way inside.

He made his way to the bed before squatting so he was just barely at Yuri’s eye level.

“Yura?”

He saw the blonde’s eyes flicker open for a moment, fingers moving oh so slightly against the bedsheet.

The heart rate monitor beside him beeped as Yuri returned to the land of the conscious, oxygen mask fogging with signs of life.

Simmering anger gripped at the pit of his stomach.

And then his phone beeped.

 


	3. Little Tipsy III

The message was short but Victor didn’t have a chance to really read it before his phone rang with an incoming call from the same number. 

He hesitated before sliding the answer button before stepping back outside. 

“Hello?” 

“Is this Victor Nikiforov?” 

He’d heard that voice before… 

“That depends. Who is this?” his brow furrowed slightly. 

“Otabek Altin, from the grand prix. Does that mean you’re Victor Nikiforov?” it came out neutral but Victor could hear the slight tremor of impatience. 

“Oh. It does.” 

“Good. Because I need your help.” 

_That_ definitely had him reeling. 

“With?” 

“Getting a little payback for Plisetsky.” 

“What about Yurit?” He just needed to be sure. 

“I saw him sitting in the back of the club last night. Saw the bastard drop something in his drink. But with how the stage was set up, I couldn’t pull the sound or get off the stage from where I was.” 

Victor’s mind raced to absorb the new information. 

“The police came in ten minutes before my set ended and by the time I finished they were gone and no one had any idea where they took him so I tried calling him but he wouldn’t answer.” His sentences were getting faster and fast. 

“And then I called Chulanont to try and get to Katsuki but he wasn’t answering his phone either…” 

“ _ Oh… _ ”

“Yeah… How is he? ” 

“He’s...He’s getting better. He passed out earlier today. The nurses said that his body probably couldn’t burn it fast enough.” 

Victor heard a sharp intake from Otabek. 

“So. How fast can you get here? I think he’s gonna wake up soon.” Otabek asked quietly. 

“Wake up?” 

“He may or may not have collided with a bar stool.” 

“I see. What an efficient bar stool.” 

“Definitely.” 

“I’ll be there in fifteen.” 

It was all over the tabloids and online gossip sites by the next morning. 

Blown up and grainy but still managing to look every bit amazing as they looked on ice. At least, that was what Phichit messaged Yuri under the screenshot of a particularly gossipy sports instagram page. 

The photo itself was taken from a relatively close distance, framing the very back door of the club that had gained notoriety for Plisetsky instagram scandal.

It was roughly 3 in the afternoon going by the brightness, a contrast from the inside of the door Victor was emerging from, left forearm braced against the inside of the door opening it while his other wiped at the blood on his lip with the back of his hand. Otabek was visible, directly behind the silver haired man, chin up and eyes narrowed. The lithe fingers of his right hand curled around the door frame as his left held tight to a packed black duffle. Two world renown athletes turned  _ bad boys _ for the day, was what the site had described it as, and everyone was happy to oblige. 

What made the photo worth all the more was the mug shot to the right of the two, portraying a young man with a rather  _ nasty  _ black eye who looked properly terrified as he held up his mugshot number. 

**_PLISETSKY AVENGED?_ ** Was a title one gossip column wrote, heavily speculating the connection between the two photos. 

They’d even peppered in some primary sources who apparently happened to see Nikiforov enter the club around eleven, which was weird in an of itself because the club was supposed to be closed. 

Some mentioned that they hadn’t seen the DJ slash skater actually leave after he returned around six in the morning. 

It sparked speculation, not only as to how the two connected, but also as to why Altin was in Russia to begin with. Something that even his own fan base hadn’t been aware of. 

One of the answers had led to Plisetsky and his recent scandal at the same club which got people wondering as to why the two skaters weren’t actually at practice. 

Their theories were only cemented when a call was made to the police about a certain drug dealer in the area wanting to turn himself in for the improper use of illicit substances and also slander. 

He’d begged the officers to take him away, mumbling about sociopathic athletes and how it hadn’t been worth it. 

Neither skater mentioned it up and no one brought it up, tying up the scandal with a shady little knot. 

* * *

 

Yuri woke up within the day feeling absolutely  _ wrecked _ . 

His muscles didn’t want to move, and the beeping of the monitors were starting to get on his nerves, but he knew he was lucky. 

Especially when he saw the absolute relief on Yakov’s face as he jerked out of the chair in the corner of the small hospital room.

And second by second he was becoming more and more aware of things, notably of how many pieces of medical equipment were on his person. 

An IV fed into the crook of his right arm with an oxygen mask fed him air. There was something clipped on to his index finger that connected to a monitor to his left. 

Katsuki was there as well, seated against the wall near the door with Victor and Otabek.

There were flowers on the windo- 

His muddled mind finally picked up on the sudden realization that Otabek Altin was seated in between Katsudon and Victor. It was actually him.

It threw his brain into confusion which made him want to sit up. 

Which was why he, in his not entirely conscious mind, decided to latch on to Yakov with his IVed arm and hoist himself up to sitting position. 

He  _ immediately  _ regretted that decision as the room started to spin and pain started radiating from his arm. 

Yakov pushed him back down lecturing gruffly about impatience. He didn’t miss the way that the three on the floor jolted to their feet all looking more than a little concerned. 

“Yuri!” his voice was steady but the concern was evident. 

“Beka? How’d you-” 

“Nikiforov picked me up. We went grocery shopping. Apparently you never have actual food at your place?” he quirked a brow. 

“Hmm. Nikiforov is a  _ liar  _ and should mind his own business.” it had no bite, and in all honesty, he could help but feel immensely thankful that  _ someone  _ had picked up food because he felt like he wasn’t going to be able to for a while. 

“You know it’s true, Yura.” the blonde rolled his eyes. 

“And besides. You can’t not have food on hand when you have a guest staying with you.”

“What?” he didn’t even bother trying to get passed the infuriating smirk.

“He doesn’t know yet. I didn’t get to tell him.” Yakov shook his head.

“Neither did I… He came in mid set.” Otabek agreed.

All eyes turned to Yuri.

“Tell me what? If you’re going to say something, spit it out. And stop staring!” 

Otabek and Yuuri looked away sheepishly while neither Victor nor Yakov moved, smirk slowly growing on Victor’s face.

He  _ loved  _ getting Yuri riled up. Having been an only child never bothered him, but after being around the blonde for so long, he realized that being a big brother was really  _ really  _ fun. 

Almost  _ too  _ fun. 

“Altin’s coach needed a temp for a week so he’ll be staying with you and practicing with us.” Yakov answered finally, eyeing Victor like a tired parent.

“With that being said” he turned back to Yuri and Otabek. 

“I expect your best work this week. I know you two are close but neither of you have time to slack off.” 

“They’re so cute.” Victor stage whispered to Yuuri who fought to hide the smile. 

“Nikiforov, you of all people have  _ nothing  _ to say. Shut your mouth.” Yakov snapped, rolling his eyes at the mock salute Victor gave. 

“Y-you’re staying with me?” Yuri turned to Otabek. 

“If that’s okay.” 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do” it was just sing songy enough to have Yuri’s eye twitch. 

“Victor if you don’t shut the f-” 

And in the chaos, Yuuri and Otabek made eye contact, silently conversing. 

_ They do this often? _

_ All the time. Like siblings. _

  
  



	4. Slumps I

It was a rarity, but it still happened every once in a while. 

As good as they all were, they were still human, and accidents did happen. Sometimes small technical errors to full out falls mid program. 

They’d get up, dust themselves off, and get back to it. Putting in all that they had to finish strong. And then they’d go back and practice it again and again and again to make sure it was perfect the next time.

But nonetheless, it was a hard pill to swallow. Especially for the skaters with expectations to uphold, sending some skaters spiralling. 

So when Yakov found Yuri staring off into space for the nth time during the morning practice he ordered the blonde off the ice to grab some lunch. Specifying that he wasn’t allowed back for the next hour and a half. 

And if he happened to see Nikiforov and Katsuki share a silent concerned conversation, he wasn’t going to say anything. 

Especially when the conversation ended with Victor rushing to catch up with the blonde before he got off the ice. 

That was how Victor knew things were  _ bad.  _

He hopped off the ice, putting his guards on before following in close proximity. 

Something that would have caused an outburst by now in any other situation with Yuri. There would have been something. 

_ Anything.  _

But Yuri kept walked, one skate in front of the other until he reached his shoes. Almost like he wasn’t really all there. 

Like he’d been doing for the past hour and a half, and it was getting concerning. 

“Yura?” Yuri didn’t even look over from unlacing his skates. 

“Hmm?” 

“Let’s go out for lunch.” Victor rushed to unlace his own, pulling them off before putting on the soakers and toeing himself into his sneakers. 

“What?” 

“Lunch. Lets go get lunch. At that diner near here.” Victor hauled himself off the bench, stretching lightly as he waited for Yuri to finish putting his things away, glancing over to the ice every few seconds. 

“Why?” it made Victor snap back to the blonde who sat, elbows on his knees hunched over. He had taken out his ponytail somewhere along the line, running slow agitated fingers through the hair, staring a hole into his shoes. 

“Because it’s lunch time?” Victor’s brows knitted together. 

There was a moment of hesitant silence before the younger let out a tired sigh, letting his hair fall through his fingers before looking up to make eye contact. 

They stayed that way for a few seconds, bright blues meeting tired greens before Victor broke the silence, expression softening into concern. 

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself, Yura.” 

Victor saw a flash of something in Yuri’s eyes, hidden behind the neutral mask that had become a norm within the last couple of weeks after the European Championships. 

It was unexpected then, and it remained unsettling now weeks later when the ice tiger’s claws seemed to have been replaced with mittens. Soft and unfeeling in the worst way. 

There was no bite. 

No emotion. Especially anger. 

Medalling bronze twice consecutively in the last two competitions had stoked a fire half parts anger half parts irritation and disappointment in the teen. 

That had been expected.

Being pushed completely off of the podium at the most recent competition all but smothered him. Deadening not only the anger but everything else as well. 

_ That  _ hadn’t been expected. 

Victor was sure that, between the medal ceremony all the way to unpacking and debriefing at the rink, Yuri had uttered maybe five sentences at most. 

None of which had any characteristic bite in them. 

They had all been so... _ passive.  _

It was weird but no one confronted him about it knowing that he probably needed his own space to figure things out at his own time. 

Which was why Yakov let it go the first week, remembering the dark times before the consecutive medals when Victor had gone through  _ his  _ slumps. 

Shuttering slightly as he recalled the chilling aura that had surrounded the then teen Victor during his  _ truly  _ horrible season. 

Fall after fall after mishap. 

The kid had gotten so flustered that he’d forgotten his own program for a good second before racing to catch back up. 

The season he had finished sixth or lower  _ multiple  _ times. 

There had been anger. 

Lots and lots of anger directed at himself which still terrified Yakov to this day when he really and truly realized just how self destructive the skater could get. 

And then there had been a relatively short period of deep sadness. Days when Yakov had to confiscate Victor’s phone so he would  _ stop looking at the goddamn articles.  _ Victor was young and the articles were  _ mean  _ . Terrible page after page of criticisms that no doubt ripped the teen up inside. 

And then there was the slow but definite transition from sad to numb, and Yakov couldn’t tell which had been worse. 

A sad Victor could range from random bursts of tears on ice to sleeping in and being late, frown following the tired face everywhere. 

But numb?

Numb Victor could skate his entire program without an ounce of feeling. All technical. Numb Victor showed up at every conditioning/training/practice session from start to finish without saying a word. Nodding at everything that was hurled at him. 

Numb Victor didn’t need to have his phone taken because it seemed that nothing could spark anything in him anymore. Praise and criticism was met with the same emotionless mask. 

It had taken one last emotionless bronze at one of the junior competitions before Christophe had put his foot down, nabbing the boy post competition.

If the rumors were true, Yakov would forever be thankful to Giacometti for snapping Victor out of his slump. Something that had taken a sound bitch slap to the face followed by a few loud choice words that the Swiss had directed to a suitably shocked Nikiforov. 

Victor had returned the next day to his hotel room tired but with a small but genuine smile looking more sure of himself than he had in months.     

He had waved the Swiss off with the promise of seeing him at the next competition. Something that had been reciprocated gladly with the threat of another bitch slap if Victor failed to deliver. 

But Victor had made it. To that competition and to countless other with renewed strength, making a stunning comeback. 

Which was why Yakov hoped in his heart of hearts that Victor would be able to do just that for Yuri. 

Victor did have the first born experience down after all. 


	5. Slumps II

In all honesty, the chances of being spotted during the lunch rush hour was significantly higher than any other time, but they were in a crunch and Victor wasn’t all that sure Yuri wouldn’t just up and bolt if he decided to try somewhere else. 

So he did what he had to and parked his sleek black  _ expensive  _ car as far away from the other cars as possible near the back of the building before cutting the engine. 

He mentally breathed a sigh of relief when Yuri followed suit, unclipping himself before opening the car door, stretching himself out before shutting it quietly behind him. 

Victor wasn’t going to lie. 

They stuck out,  _ a lot _ . 

Especially with the jackets. 

_ Damn…  _ shouldn’t have brought the jackets… he winced internally, herding Yuri towards the front, still surprised and more than a little wary at the passiveness. 

But they made it into the cafe and to the front without a hitch as Victor’s gaze browsed around looking around warily until a server came up with a handful of menus. 

“How man-” the poor server coughed, trying to recover from the surprise. 

“How many?” 

Victor shot him a bright smile. 

“Two please. Somewhere a little more… Secluded if you can manage that.” 

“R-right this way.” 

They were lead in a winding route towards the back to a table that was indeed more secluded than the rest. 

“My name is Peter. I’ll be your server today.” He fumbled with the menus. 

“Can I start you two with something to drink?” 

“I’ll have water, please.” Victor looked back at Yuri. 

“Same....” 

“Alright! I’ll be back.” 

No one mentioned the fact that he nearly face planted as he stumbled over his own shoes. 

“Their soups are pretty good. I normally get their salmon wraps.” Victor thumbed through the menu. Pausing briefly when he realized that Yuri wasn’t doing the same. 

He glanced up to find the blond staring into his phone. 

“Yura, put that down. At least order first.” he chastised, reaching over and plucking the phone away with surprising ease. 

And then he froze as his mind registered what it was he was seeing on the screen. 

It was them. 

Taken a little ways away but definitely time stamped not even 2 minutes ago. 

They had  _ just  _ sit down… 

He scrolled a little further to the caption, and he immediately wished he hadn’t, chest tightening. 

  * **Spotted: World champion Victor Nikiforov joining in on Yuri Plisetsky’s pity party of one. Maybe if** ** _someone_** **practiced harder instead of wasting time they’d actually win something…? No offense. #justsaying**



It had already started circulating. Hundreds of people liking it. 

Reposting it.

Commenting on it.

_ Christ.  _

He shut the phone completely off before moving it to the side. 

“Yura.” the blonde stared straight ahead.

“Yuri. Yuri,  _ please.  _ Look at me.” Victor leaned in, eyes wide with genuine worry. 

“It’s fine.” Yuri muttered as he flicked his gaze up to Victor’s eyes. 

“Is it though? Are you fine?” 

Yuri tensed. 

“Does it even matter? They’ll say shit regardless.” 

Victor stared a moment in silence before answering. 

“That’s true. But that’s not my question.” 

Yuri didn’t respond. 

“Yura, you’re an amazing skater.” 

The blonde scoffed before looking away. 

“You are. You owe it to yourself to realize that.” there was no room in his tone for arguments. 

“I’ve placed third twice.  _ Twice.  _  Two consecutive bronzes. Not to mention the fact that I didn’t even fucking  _ place _ at Europeans.”

“You’ve just had a rough run. That doesn’t make you a bad skater.” Victor rebutted. 

“Everyone has bad seasons.  _ Everyone,  _ Yuri. And you haven’t even finished the entire season yet.” 

“How am I supposed to even qualify for the other competitions in the season if I can’t even fucking place in the top five?!” it was said a little louder that he intended as the area took a hush before returning back to the original volume. 

“You do what you have to and skate in the qualifiers. It’s good practice.” Victor responded evenly. 

“And what if I fuck up in the qualifiers? What then?” 

“Then you sit that competition out and you keep  _ training _ , Yura. What else?” 

The heated conversation came to a halt as the server returned with their drinks. 

“Are you all ready to order?” 

“I’ll get what you’re getting.” Yuri mumbled looking away. 

“We’ll have two salmon wraps please. And the garden salad. No dressing.” He handed the server the menus with a smile. 

“Thank you.” 

The server nodded before scurrying away. 

The smile dropped off Victor’s face as he turned back to face Yuri who looked more than a little unhappy, eyeing his phone that sat near Victor’s elbow. 

“I’m confiscating this until Saturday.” he grabbed the phone before pocketing it. 

“What the hell? You can’t just  _ do  _ that!”

Victor raised a brow, leveling Yuri with a sassy stare. 

“If I’m not mistaken, you’re staying over this week? So you won’t need to contact anyone to get home or to the rink, and you’ll be in practice so you won’t need it then. We’ll probably get back around ten which means you won’t really have time to do anything before washing up and bed since we’ll all be leaving for practice at 5 AM, which I assure you, Makka with more than willingly wake you up. So, no. You don’t need it.” 

Yuri looked like he was going to protest. 

“And honestly, I should have done it earlier. Yakov had to do it for me too.” 

“What, be an asshole and take your stuff?” 

“Exactly.. He took my phone and my laptop for a week.” 

“I swear, Nikiforov if-” 

“I mean exactly what I said.. You need to cool your head off. You can’t keep looking at the tabloids, Yura. They do what they need to do for money. You know that. It’s all bullshit. Trust me. I  _ know.”  _

Yuri rolled his eyes.

“Do you now? What, they commented on how you had a strand of hair out of place or something? Weren’t smiling enough with your gold medal?” it was said more out of spite than in honesty, but Victor could see the pain behind the snark.

“You know, before the consecutive titles, when I was around your age, definitely a little younger, but still before I really rose in ranks, I had a  _ god awful  _ season. Like, really  _ really  _ bad.”

Victor could feel the wary curiosity. 

It got to a point where I started slipping and I couldn’t get my head back in the game to focus and I’d panic. I kept placing sixth or lower at domestic competitions. I fell  _ a lot.  _ Ask Yakov. At one point, I’m pretty sure it was Rostelecom’s qualifying competition, I forgot my program for a good second. I didn’t make the song to the end. I over timed and the song ended before I was done.” Victor winced at the memory. 

“And they started this rumor.” He leaned back, fiddling with the silverware at the uncomfortable memory. 

“That I was done for after this competition that I won bronze in. And honestly, I thought so too. I don’t think I even smiled on the podium during the ceremony. Yakov chewed me out for that too..” 

“But you didn’t.” Yuri responded shortly. 

“No, I didn’t because I had someone who sat me down and told me I was being an idiot.” He gave Yuri a pointed nod. 

“And reminded me that I didn’t get that far to just  _ quit. _ ” 

Yuri remained silent, staring intently at the silver haired man. 

“Trust me, Yuri. I have absolutely  _ no  _ intention of letting you just retire before I do. So that’s that. I don’t make the rules. Sorry.” he shrugged. 

“You just-”

He brought up a hand, stopping the blonde in his tracks. 

“But you do have options.” 

“Oh good .” the sass was practically  _ dripping.  _ He looked every inch the soon to be eighteen year old he was with his arms crossed defensively across his chest, rolling his eyes at the utter  _ unfairness  _ of the entire situation. 

Victor was smart. He was manipulative when he wanted to be. Yuri knew this. Hell, everyone knew this. This almost big brotherly push he had towards Yuri. Equal parts endearing and downright irritating all at once. Purposefully staging this whole thing in public to minimize the possibility of a scene. 

_ “Fine.”  _

“Option 1-” he reached for his glass of water, pausing to take a sip. 

“You keep what you’re doing, sulking and driving Yakov’s blood pressure up.” Yuri groaned, slumping his head back. 

“Or?” he heaved himself back up, leaning forward, brow raised sarcastically. 

“You get your head back in the game and get back to work.” 

“And you really wonder which one I’m going to pick?” 

“If you choose option 1, I’m going to sit the next competition out as well. And you  _ know  _ how Yuuri’s gonna feel about that.” He answered evenly. 

“That’s just low…” the blonde growled. 

Victor shrugged. 

“Option 2 I’ll get you out of the next four pre-competition interviews.  _ And  _ I’ll help you choreograph a new step sequence.” 

He leaned back, arms crossed looking  _ far  _ too smug for Yuri’s liking. 

But it was too good an opportunity to pass. 

“Fine.  _ Fine.  _ But Katsudon does  _ not  _ come into this equation. He was bad enough the first week. If he tries to hug me one more time I’ll snap his blades.” 

He threw his hands up in defeat. 

“Good.” Victor nodded, just in time to see their food arrive. 

He let the server set their table before pulling out his phone. 

“Time for a selfie,” was all the warning Yuri got before Victor turned, snapping a photo. 

“You look like you’re about to commit homicide. Not cute at  _ all _ but that’s okay. I’ll forgive you this time.” Victor threw out, typing away before posting and putting his phone away. 

“Now that we’ve got everything cleared up, lets eat!”

* * *

 

He wouldn’t see it until Saturday night, but when he did he smiled. 

He’d never  _ ever  _ admit it, but deep  _ deep  _ down he couldn’t help but feel the surge of affection as he stared at the photo. 

 

  * **_**_Touch him and I’ll cut you with my own skates._**_**



 

**_#littlebrother #whatabrat #A1 #podiumfam_ **

  
  



	6. Temperature I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by my own temperature experience

It was a wonder how he managed to hide it for so long. Or more like, it was a wonder that no one had noticed for so long.

Not when Yuri stalked in to the rink wearing an uncharacteristically baggy hoodie under the thick parka, staring a little _too_ intently at the ground.

Not when he more or less flung himself onto one of the rink side bleachers before taking off the layers,  taking several deep breaths. He turning to his skate bag, gingerly undoing the zip with a shaky hand. No one seemed to have noticed the suspiciously long time it took for him to get them on, laces and all. And if anyone did happened to have seen the small stumble as he hoisted himself up, they didn’t mention it.

He hesitated before leaning down to take off his guards, gripping the wall just a little _too_ tight before stepping out on the _very_ cold ice.

But it was okay because he was on the ice, and if Yuri knew anything, he knew that he had more control on ice than off ice.

He could handle the ice, putting one skate in front of the other, taking slow laps around the rink.

_Outside edges._

_Inside edges._

_Backwards._

_Forwards._

He could do those in his sleep.

When he wasn’t burning up with a fever, that was.

Fever Yuri couldn’t look up, eyes glued to the expanse of bright white that looked to be moving a little too fast for his liking. The problem was that his hazy mind needed to see where his skates were because his body seemed to have forgotten how to move of its own accord.

It was nauseating.

But he had no intention to stop. With the Goodwill competition gala coming up in less than three weeks, he needed all the time he could get to polish his program. He didn’t have time to rest, and he _definitely_ didn’t have time to be sick. In all honesty he was prepared to just deal with it until after the competition.

Was it a good idea? Not at all.

Did that change his plans? No.

If anything, he felt a surge of determination to finish out today’s practice out of sheer spite to his body which was _begging_ for him to stop. He’d walked the whole twenty minutes from his flat to the rink, and he wasn’t about to let that monster of a journey go to waste.

He’d just have to make sure to avoid getting too close toYthe other coaches

And Victor, which probably meant Katsudon as well.

He’d just have to isolate himself the best he could and power through for the next two hours and then he’d be able to go back home and hide, in fetal position under his plush duvet on four inches of memory foam.

Yakov had given them the weekend off meaning he’d have the whole weekend to return to the land of unconsciousness after this practice.

Just two hours.

_Two hours._

_Four half hour blocks._

_One hundred twenty minutes._

_Seven thousand two hundred seconds._

He felt a burst of extra fatigue when his brain realized just how long it was to the end, and it made him almost want to drop on the ice and cry.

But he was certainly _not_ going to do so because he could handle two hours.

He handled more than two hours before, and he wasn’t about to break that record.

But his eyes…

 _Christ_. They were beginning to get uncomfortably heavy, and the cold dry air wasn’t doing much to help with the fact that his eyeballs seemed to be on fire. Or so his brain was starting to believe.

And when blinking didn’t help, he, against his better judgement, squeezed his eyes shut.

There were a few seconds relief followed by a solid _thud._

And then the world was spinning. Or at least, it felt like it was spinning. He couldn’t be too sure because he couldn’t open his eyes.

Not even when his entire right side collided into something _extremely_ hard and _very_ cold, setting off an explosion of colors behind his lids.  

And as much as his first instinct was to get off the hard cold surface, he was out of breath and the brutal wave of nausea kept him pinned.

In all honesty, he wasn’t entirely sure as to what position he was in. His mind wasn’t registering what had happened, too busy making sure that he wouldn’t start dry heaving.  

“Yuri! Are you alright?!”

His brain protested at the loudness.

_Too loud._

“I’m fine. Just winded.” it came out with surprising clearness.

_Open your eyes.They’re going to know._

He opened them gingerly, looking anywhere _but_ the worried ball of nerves in front of him.

It took a considerable amount of willpower to haul himself up, rubbing his elbow absentmindedly as he tried his hardest to keep his expression as neutral as possible.

“Did you hurt your elbow? Is your hip okay?” Victor glided to the opposite side, standing next to Yuuri with an equally concerned look.

“It was a fumble. I’m fine. You can go back to whatever it was you were doing.” he dismissed the concern.

He didn’t miss the way the two made eye contact, conversing in silence before turning back to the blonde.

“You sure you’re okay?” Yuuri asked again, gently this time.

“Did I stutter? I told you, I’m fine.” his brand of snappish coming out as his brain went into overdrive trying to figure a way out before things got bad.

“Alright. But be safe.” Victor ordered before skating away with Yuuri in tow.

Yuri wasn’t stupid. He didn’t have to look to know that they were sending him concerned looks over their shoulders. Probably having another silent discussion on what could possibly be wrong.  

And since something had already happened, he’d have to be extra careful for the remainder of practice.

Very _very_ careful.

But he wasn’t going to think about that because thinking about it would make him have to acknowledge the fact that he’d have to put an even larger burden on his achy body, and he didn’t care for that shit at all.

But he knew that Victor and Yuuri were at practice as well which meant that they wouldn’t have too much time to keep staring, which was great.

All he had to do was keep moving. Do a few jumps. Maybe a few jump sequences. Possibly scatter a few spins in between.

Nothing _too_ major. Just enough to give the semblance of being okay.

That plan was shot to pieces and set on fire the moment he landed a double sal.

Technically it had began to ignite when he took off into the rotation. It was just cemented when a sharp pain stabbed at the back of his head from being jarred on impact.

_Don’t you fucking dare._

He clenched his teeth, jaw tight in a grimace when a new wave of dizzy nausea crashed down. A familiar feeling of pre-vomit acidic bile sting his throat at it came dangerously close to traveling all the way up his throat.

Yuri closed his eyes and counted to ten, taking breaths as deep as he could to fight the overwhelming urge to just projectile vomit onto the ice.

It was _for sure_ not going to happen. Not today. Not ever.

But when he opened his eyes he just happened to see Yuuri staring from his peripheral vision.

_Move. Keep moving._

His plan was looking less and less doable. Confidence decreasing by the seconds as he skated around to prepare for a combination.

Something big.

Big enough to get the two older skaters to stop _fucking_ staring at him like he was going to pass out at any moment.

But for now, he needed to concentrate because he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to pull it off like normal. This needed his complete undivided attention and a sizable chunk of energy he had left. Especially because he was starting to feel a little disconnected physically. Like his limbs were starting to float away on their own.

_Triple axel. Triple toe._

He repeated internally, gathering as much energy as he could before going into the jump.

In all honesty, the axel wasn’t too bad. Much better than he felt like it was going to be. The problem came the moment he landed. He landed like he was supposed to, pick to edge, but the force of impact sent another series of stabbing pain to his head, but this time his hearing went out abruptly, leaving a high pitched noise reverberating in his ear.

But he was already too far into the second jump to stop, holding the pain in suspension. It was like he was moving in slow motion through water, but the languid dimension of silence and movement shattered the moment his toe pick touched the ice. And then everything sped up as the sounds around him assaulted his ears.

It was all too much.

He could feel himself shut down, muscles refusing to engage as his arms began to droop lower and lower, throwing his rotation off completely as he felt his body rush to the ground. He could hear his pulse rushing in his ear, vision beginning to tunnel.

His hazy mind supplied a picture.

If the jump was a bell curve, somewhere closer to the take off side he’d started to flag, and just barely missed the middle before diving down in a straight line.

His left toe pick was the first thing to make contact with the ice, digging deep from the force of impact pitching Yuri forward directly on his knees.

He couldn’t hold in the yelp of pain that escaped as a rolled, body still in shock from the pain from his knees.

And then he felt nothing. Unconscious before his body finally reached a standstill on his back, arms splayed around him.


	7. Temperature II

Much to his disappointment, the painless embrace of unconsciousness didn’t last long. And as his senses started returning one by one, so did the pulsing pain. He couldn’t tell which one hurt more, his head or his knees. But he was certain that every part of his body was in some sort of pain. It was just that his head and knees made him, in all seriousness, want to crawl into a hole and die. 

“Everybody off the ice.” he heard Victor shout in close proximity. 

He heard another pair of skates stop near him through the countless others that were headed out of the rink.

Yuri took a shaky breath, wincing at the new flares of pain as he rolled himself gingerly onto his right arm, exhaling sharply as he maneuvered his left hand next to his arm to sit up. 

It was a slow and agonizingly painful process, but somewhere in his mind he felt panic bubbling, so he gritted his teeth and forced his body to move through the pain.

He’d fallen and passed out, and knowing lover boy and Katsuki, things would for sure be blown out of proportion, because he knew that they worried  _ way  _ to much.

He gave himself a moment to get his bearings before turning just in time to see Yuuri pulling out his phone. 

“If you call an ambulance I swear to  _ god … _ ” 

He jolted in surprise nearly dropping his phone. 

“You just passed out, Yuri! Of course I’m going to call an ambulance .”  

“Do I look unconscious to you? I landed on my knees. Not my head. I was  _ winded _ ” he slowly brought his legs to the side, half kneeling before using the ice to shakily standing back up, gliding forward with surprising speed. 

He snatched the phone from the older skater’s unsuspecting hands and shut it off before handing it roughly back, turning to skate away.

He flinched on instinct when he suddenly felt a hand gripping his upper right arm in a vice grip. 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

_ Of course…  _

Yuri sighed, rolling his eyes not even bothering to try to snatch his arm out of Victor’s grip. 

Contrary to the popular belief, the man had a surprising amount of upper body strength considering the fact that he was known for his amazing lower body strength and gracefulness on ice.

It wasn’t always noticeable under the costumes, but  in reality, he wasn’t just slim. He was practically all lean muscle. And while he had sprouted up, tightening the height gap between them, he wasn’t built like Victor. 

He had no doubt in his mind that Victor could take him down. 

So he did what he could and spun to face the man, staring back with an equal amount of steel when Victor refused to let go, opting to stare intently, almost like he was looking for something. 

It made Yuri want to squirm, but he squashed that feeling down like how he squashed the urge to vomit. He wasn’t about to give Victor any satisfaction. If the man thought he could pick out what was wrong, he’d have to do it himself. 

“Yuuri, love-” he didn’t break eye contact.

“Can I use your phone please?” he held out his free hand to Yuuri who warily obliged. 

Victor didn’t even have to look away, pressing the contacts tab before typing away with ease before pressing the call icon next to the name. 

He brought the phone to his ear. 

Yuri didn’t miss the way his lips pressed to a tight line to match his unforgiving glare. He also didn’t miss the sound of ringing before someone finally picked up. 

And then he felt his blood run cold. 

“It’s me. I’m just borrowing his phone.” 

Victor moved with an infuriating amount of speed and agility as he spun out of the way, pushing the blonde away gently as he lunged for the phone, stumbling slightly from the push. 

Yuuri looked on, half with exasperation and half in amusement. It was a familiar scene. How many times had he and his sister done something like this? 

“Hmm? Oh, no. It’s going smoothly. I mean, the kids seem to genuinely like having a joint practice session. Apparently it’s good motivation.” he ducked another lunge, raising a offended brow at Yuri who scowled back. 

The pseudo dance continued on as Yuri continued to lunge and Victor continued to dodge, traveling quite a bit around the rink.

“I don’t know… That’s just what their coach said. Mhm. No, I’m not lying. No. No you don’t have to come back early. I told you, everything is fine. Of  _ course  _ I haven’t done anything reckless. You told me not to before you left, remember?” 

Yuuri’s brow nearly reached his hairline as he shot Victor a look of total disbelief at the boldfaced lie which Victor returned with an exaggerated smile, taking the phone away from his ear as Yakov’s volume rose. He took it the opportunity to ask Yuuri to tell the kids that they could get back on the ice before putting the phone back to his ears all the while dodging out of Yuri’s path, hand still securely gripped on the blonde’s arm. 

“Anywho, I just wanted to let you know that we might leave practice early today.” the flippancy cut straight into Yuri’s headache making his eye twitch at the unfairness of it all. 

“Yuuri, Yura, and I” he amended, picking up speed as he skated backwards, leading Yuri away from the influx of skaters. They crossed around in mindless curves as Victor managed to skate, hold on to Yuri, and dodge the kids who were obviously trying very hard not to stare at the bizarre sight. 

“It’s for a good cause. I promise.” his gaze flicked to Yuri before they cut sharply right to avoid a kid who made the stupid decision to just full on stop a little ways behind Victor in the line of travel they had been going. 

Yuri couldn’t help the loud curse that came out of his mouth as he was forced from two feet into a deep outside edge on his right skate, squeezing his left leg tightly behind his right  to avoid catching the kid when his body whipped forward from the sudden cut. 

But the chills from the potential collision was nothing compared to the numb chills he got when his mind realized what Victor was saying. 

“I’mtakingYuritothehospital.” 

“No, you aren’t.” Yuri snarled, lunging for the phone once more.

“Alrightgottogo, bye!” he rushed before hanging up. 

“Yes, I am.” Victor replied curtly, coming to a stop next to the rink door. 

“I’m not fucking going to the hospital. I’m fine in case you didn’t notice while you pulled me around the goddamn rink.” he tried to shove the hand off. 

“Language! There are  _ kids _ watching!” 

Victor nodded towards a group of junior skaters who had milled about, close enough to hear the conversation. But from his expression, Yuri could tell that Victor was spinning the situation the way he wanted it to go.

One irate look from Yuri had them dispersing to get back to practice. 

“You’re wasting practice time.” 

Victor didn’t respond, choosing to sweep his gaze over to the far side of the rink where some of the younger skaters were standing, listening intently to what their coach had to say.

“True..” he relinquished Yuri from his grip. 

The blonde stood for a moment, stretching out his arm before gliding away, putting a safe amount of space between them. 

But there was something.. Something about the way the man turned his attention back to Yuri. He didn’t like the glint in the man’s eyes. 

Be it curiosity or wariness,  _ something  _ kept him rooted to the spot instead of skating away like his brain was screaming for him to.

“But, Yuri.” 

He could feel an underlying sharpness. A mostly hidden threat in the way Victor spoke. 

“Could you just imagine-” Victor started gliding aimlessly around the blonde, spinning every now and then, grace evident even in mindless movement. 

“-what would happen if we had another joint session next week when Yakov gets back?” 

Yuri followed the man with guarded eyes. 

“I mean, there are at  _ least  _ six junior skaters in our session today. Plus the three junior coaches. Plus me and Yuuri.” he trailed off for a moment to let his words sink in. 

“So that makes, what, eleven people who saw you  _ completely  _ wipe out.” 

“And?” he gritted out.

“ I can’t imagine that Yakov would be too pleased to have to hear the whole story from other coaches before being told by you. It’s kind of rude, really.”

Yuri didn’t respond, trying to figure out what to do next.

 “And you know how Yakov is about injuries. I wouldn’t put it past him to bench you for a week after he finds out what happened.”.

That caught Yuri’s attention. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he couldn’t help the anxious thoughts that sped through his mind. 

It was a completely legitimate threat. He knew Yakov, and if his years of skating with Victor taught him anything, it was that Yakov was ruthless about injuries. 

He’d pulled skaters off rosters without even batting an eye simply because they tried to keep things hidden out of fear of being benched.

“Okay. Fine.” he sighed in defeat. There was nothing he hated more than giving in, but at this point he knew it was a necessary loss. Something he just had to grit through so he could continue skating.

* * *

 

Yuri stared dumbfoundedly at the doctor as he came to a diagnosis. 

No concussion. No lasting damage to the knees. Nothing that would hinder Yuri’s future skating. 

_ However _

It was found that Yuri had a fever of 101 degrees. He was dehydrated and most likely sleep deprived. A horrible combination that was the source of his fall. 

Which was something the doctor took great interest in. 

Namely the fact that Yuri had managed to walk so far in the cold with a fever and have enough energy left to skate and jump as much as he did before reaching his tipping point. 

Yuri had been incredulous at first, but it all made sense. 

It wasn’t just fatigue from the week of brutal practices and minimal sleep like his hazy mind had supplied. 

“I recommend that you stay hydrated and rest up. You’ve over worked yourself Mr. Plisetsky. This was just your body’s last ditch effort to tell you so.” the doctor reprimanded before waving Yuri off. 

He shuffled out of the room, a print out of the diagnosis in hand feeling the fatigue rush over him like swells. 

It just kept getting worse once he realized he’d have to show them the diagnosis as well, and looking at the paper he couldn’t tell which was worse.

While the fall had been major, the fact that he came to practice with a fever sounded so much worse. 

He stopped abruptly as his mind supplied a not so great realization.

Victor was going to kill him. 

  
  
  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One time I went to sleep feeling tired and woke up to full blown flu symptoms but it didn't register to me because I'm always tired so I went to the gym and worked out(body weight and off ice jumps/rotations). I was so out of it that I couldn't understand why I kept toppling over jumps for a straight hour.   
> My friend dragged me to the clinic and I found out that I had a high fever. And all at once it made sense...


	8. Victor Says I

“What the  _ hell  _ were you thinking?!” Yakov tossed the tabloid roughly down where Yuri stood, eyes downcast before his coach’s desk. The man leaned back in his chair clearly angry and waiting for an explanation as to why Yuri was on the cover of said tabloid very obviously mid swing, holding some guy up by the collar. 

He’d seen the photos. 

The  _ dozens  _ that had been taken, along with the videos. 

His inbox had been absolutely  _ flooded  _ with emails from concerned sponsors.

It had escalated  _ very  _ quickly, and while Yakov had been informed that Yuri had not in fact started the fight, he had put the other guy in the hospital with a nasty black eye, a broken nose, and some bruised ribs. Something that the gossip mags had picked up on far too quickly to be stamped out. 

It was bad press.

And bad press meant they’d have to schedule yet  _ another  _ interview as soon as possible to get things straightened out before the bigger competitions to calm the concerned sponsors. 

Bad press also meant that they’d have to get out more. More out of rink time meant more time for the paparazzi to follow which would lead to more positive photos in circulation. But it also meant cutting into valuable practice time. 

All in all, it left Yakov with a higher blood pressure than normal. 

He didn’t like it. 

And while he could understand why the blonde had thrown hands, he couldn’t ignore the fact that it was getting to a point where, as a coach, he was getting concerned. Yuri had terrible  _ terrible   _ on camera skills, and it just  _ couldn’t  _ be ignored any longer.

That realization made Yakov decompress, not completely but at least enough to a point where he’d be able to hear teen out. 

Once he started talking, that was.

“Well?!” 

Yuri bristled, exhaling sharply through his nose, right hand clasping his left arm behind his back so as to not slouch at the very least. 

“He broke through security with a pair of scissors and tried to chop some of my hair off.” 

Yakov motioned for him to continue, brow quirking slightly at the uncharacteristic restrained wording. 

“The weird ass piece of shit got part of my jacket instead.”  ah, yes. There it was…

“So I caught his wrist and got the scissors off of him since security wasn’t doing their fucking job. But he decided he wanted to throw punches so I just reciprocated.” 

Yakov stared in silence for another moment before sighing, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. It was only six in the morning and he needed to give his blood pressure room for the rest of the day, and trying to get through to the newly turned eighteen year old punk skater who seemed ready to go from 0 - 60 at any time wasn’t going to help at all. 

“I’m putting you on probation.” 

“What..?” 

“Go put in an order for a new jacket and start your warm up.” Yakov completely ignored the question.

Yuri narrowed his eyes hesitating a moment, debating internally whether or not to push the man before deciding wisely on the latter.

“And tell Victor to come to my office.” Yakov added before the door shut.    

Yakov heard three knocks at the door before Victor popped his head in, hesitating at the door. 

It had been  _ ages  _ since he’d been called into Yakov’s actual office. 

He’d been before, of course. Back in his younger years when he was more… daring. 

Or as Yakov had called him ,a  ‘ _ psychotically driven menace’ _ . 

The man hadn’t meant it, of course. The wording was result of the compressed stress of watching the then teen Victor skate himself into the ice, attempting all of the things he’d been specifically told  _ not  _ to do with an honestly terrifying lack of self preservation. He’d seen the teen fall a little  _ too  _ hard too many times. 

But he was talented.

Victor himself knew that.

Yakov knew that. 

Hell, everyone watching knew it as well. 

But weirdly enough, with the seemingly limitless lack of fear and confidence he seemed to show on ice, he was remarkably good at handling the press. 

Yakov never really had to worry about Victor, be it on camera or off. He handled team interviews just as well as he handled solo ones. Victor was scary good at manipulation. Yakov had found that out early. But the skill was never really abused as he worried it would be. 

More as a shield than anything else when things got a little  _ too  _ personal. 

And while Victor was remarkably extroverted on and off the ice, he valued his privacy, which was was also why there so surprisingly little public information about himself before he really took off. 

Everything from his family life to his hobbies and interests outside skating was only speculation. Victor had made sure, even back then,  decent number of physical spats he engaged in during his younger years remained off the radar of snooping journalists interested in a good brawl. And on the very rare occasion it did, he made sure it died quick, keeping the explanation curt but respectful without a single word against whoever it was he’d gone up against. 

Yakov wasn’t dumb. He knew Victor had gotten into shit when he was younger. 

He was just  _ too  _ talented to have been without rivals or just all around haters. But Yakov also knew that Victor never really instigated things himself. If anything, Yakov found that if Victor had been in a fight, nine times out of ten it would be because the situation escalated to a point where there would be no other choice. Victor could hold his own, but he rarely ever started anything physical. But he could sure as hell end them. 

Which was why Yakov’s newest idea seemed decent, even to himself. 

Barring the eventual explosion of attitude and disapproval that was no doubt going to happen once Yuri found out. Which was going to be after practice so the blonde would have less energy to gripe. 

“Vitya. Come in.” 

Victor hesitated a moment longer before stepping into the threshold, coming to a stop before Yakov’s desk. Ten plus years and nothing much had changed other than his height… 

“I’m sure you’ve heard.” Yakov gestured to the tabloid. 

Victor glanced down briefly, wincing before nodding. 

“I’m pairing you with Plisetsky until the next competition.” 

Victor stood in silence, brow quirking in question. 

“He needs to learn how to properly behave before the cameras. It can’t be ignored anymore, Vitya. This-” the gestured irritatedly at the tabloid “-is bad press. I have dozens of sponsors asking questions right now.” 

Victor nodded in understanding. 

“You want me to mentor him on how to behave?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yakov, he’s eighteen. I’m past thirty…” 

Yakov rolled his eyes.

“You were fine when you were his age. I’m not saying I need him to act above his age. I just need him to be better before the cameras. He can do whatever he wants when they’re not watching so as long as it doesn’t get found out.” 

Yakov reached over beside his computer to grab the calendar sitting beside it. 

“We’ve got nearly three months before the next competition. So I’ll schedule a few interviews between that time. You just need to spend as much time as you can around him. Just make him less sharp around the edges.” 

Victor smirked. 

“And what makes you think Yura is going to allow that to begin with?” 

“ _ Yura  _ is skating on  _ very  _ thin ice so I’m sure he’ll understand.” Yakov replied hotly. 

“That’s all I needed you to know.” Yakov dismissed Victor with a wave, 

“Should I tell him or…?” Victor asked, stopping halfway out the door. 

“No. I’m going to wait until after practice. He’ll have less energy to argue.” 

Victor chuckled lightly as he let the door shut quietly behind him leaving Yakov sitting in silence wondering if it was such a good idea after all.


	9. Victor Says II

“Honestly, Yura. It’s simple.” Victor leaned against the front desk, skate bag on the floor by his side. 

Yuri just glared, arms crossed looking a little less murderous than he had after his brief meeting with Yakov after practice. He fiddled absentmindedly with the zips on his skate bag that was still slung over his shoulder. 

“In here-” he gestured around at where they stood in the front atrium of the massive sports complex. 

“You can say what you want. Do what you want. So as long Yakov allows, and in all honesty, he allows quite a lot.” Victor paused, smile slipping ever so slightly as his eyes trailed to the glass double doors to their right. 

“But the moment you step foot outside this complex, the rules change.” 

Yuuri nodded beside him. Of course he knew as well. The social expectation of top athletes never really changed from different sports or countries. They were all put on pedestals and expected to be on the top of their game wherever whenever. 

Especially as an older athlete. There were so many things they just couldn’t get away with anymore. And as much as Victor hated having to put pressure on Yuri for being acting like the hormonal teenager Yuri was, he could see why Yakov was so concerned. 

Yuri wasn’t a child anymore. At eighteen, he’d hit his growth spurt and lost the childish and limber physique. He was an adult now. Still years younger than Victor and Yuuri, but an adult nonetheless, and the media was starting to get less and less forgiving. 

“Once you step out of those doors you’re Yuri Plisetsky;  Grand Prix Final champion, and member of the Russian National team. There are people out there that are just waiting for you to slip up so they can bring you down, Yura. That’s something you’ve got to realize.”

Yuri looked away with a grimace. 

Of course, he knew there were people who didn’t like him. There had to be. With his signature abrasiveness, there had to have been  _ someone  _ he’d pissed off before. But in acknowledging that, he had to accept the fact that he was aware of his abrasiveness and in doing so, he’d have to admit that Yakov and Victor were right in saying that his behavior was unacceptable.. Something he  _ definitely  _ didn’t want to do. 

“And if I don’t?”  he gritted out.

“Don’t what?” Victor answered immediately. 

“Don’t care about what they think about me.” 

Victor paused, eyes glinting with a brief and unexpected look of sad sentimentality at Yuri’s words. He couldn’t help but admit that the question brought memories flooding back, and not all of them were good. Some still hurt as much as it had in their formation. Some were covered with a rosy glow, hiding the hurt behind it. All memories of a time when Victor Nikiforov was the Grand Prix final champion and member of the national team for the first time. When he was more than a little similar to the current eighteen-year-old standing in front of him looking enormously displeased. 

“You don’t have to care what they say about you, Yura.” he started off, mentally pulling himself together, out of the sea of memories and back onto solid ground.

“Then wh-” 

“You don’t have to care, but you should.” Victor cut him off. 

“There’s a difference. Of course, you don’t have to care. They don’t really know you. They most likely will never get to know you. But you’re an athlete, and athletes need more than just skill to survive.” He wasn’t smiling anymore. 

“You’ve got to realize that the only reason you’re here, skating with the best coach at one of the best rinks, getting to compete globally is partially talent, partially your fans, and partially because there are people sponsoring you to be the best you can be at what you do. But the moment you take the sponsors and fans out of the equation and you’re just a good skater. But we’re in  _ Russia _ ,  Yura. Being good isn’t enough. You’ve been through the juniors circuit. It’s cutthroat and  _ everyone  _ has potential. We crank out new amazing skaters almost every season.” 

Yuri looked away. He wasn’t wrong… 

“You’ve got an amazing fan base and some quality sponsors because you’re good at what you do. But you can’t keep doing what you’ve been doing. You’re not a child anymore, and one day you’re going to take things  _ too  _ far and they won’t be as forgiving as they were.” 

Victor straightened himself off the front desk, briefly meeting eyes with Yuuri who sat atop the desk before turning to the blonde. 

“It’s hard. No one’s telling you it’s not. But you can’t have everything. And I’m sure I’m not wrong in assuming that skating means the world to you.” Victor quirked a brow. 

Yuri didn’t even need to answer. He knew that Victor knew. Hell. All of them knew because skating really did mean the world to all of them. 

“So if you want to keep skating, Yura, changes need to be made.” 

_ Damn it. _

“Right?” 

Yuri exhaled in drawn-out irritation. 

“Right...”

“Good.” Victor smiled. 

“After you.” he gestured towards the damned glass double doors. 

“And you’re sure I can’t just stay forever?” Yuri grumbled. 

“Yakov will kick you out eventually. And besides.” Yuuri shrugged on his bag, putting his phone away with a nod.

“We’ve made reservations.” 

“What?” 

“For dinner, Yura. Consider it the first test.” 

Victor didn’t let Yuri get a word in edgewise. 

“Let’s go. I’m starving!” 

  
  



	10. Victor Says III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme song for this chapter: BTS - Answer: Love Myself

“You’ve got to stop slumping, and straighten out the frowns. Neutral is the most negative you should go in public, Yura. This resting murder face has got to go.” 

Yuri clenched his jaw but nodded, smoothing out his frown into a neutral line. 

“It’s good you decided to braid your hair. You need to stop wearing your hood up too.” he brought up a hand as Yuri opened his mouth to rebut. 

“I didn’t say stop wearing hoodies. I said stop pulling up the hood. You’re eighteen and  _ significantly  _ taller than you were. You look scary, Yuri.” 

Victor brought the car to a stop in the designated parking lot before unbuckling himself and getting out. 

The restaurant wasn’t overly exclusive, but it was definitely on the more upscale side. And with the sports complex nearby, it was a popular spot for many notable athletes. Some significantly more notable than others. 

But it didn’t feel overly weird walking in in their jackets as the waitstaff noticed immediately, rushing to usher them to a stop in the back with more privacy. 

Yuri didn’t miss the way that Victor stared his way the entire time, making sure Yuri’s expression remained unfouled. 

They were ushered to a booth, and the three wasted no time in splitting up with Victor and Yuuri on one side and Yuri on the other. Thankfully Yuuri ordered water for the them all, giving Yuri a few moments to compose himself. The blonde was doing remarkably well in following Victor’s orders about expressions and all of that, but he could see from the other nonverbal bodily cues that Yuri was far from comfortable. 

No one would ever speak it, but it was obvious to Yuuri and Victor, and Yakov as well as the other older skaters that Yuri Plisetsky actually did care. He cared quite a bit. 

Did he look ready to cut a bitch at any moment? 

Yes. 

But it was an unfortunately little known fact that the kid had a heart of gold. He cared deeply for the people he cared about and was loyal in his own aggressive way. That along with the fact that he had grown up, years under not only Victor’s enormous shadow, but beside other rising stars as well. He knew he was a good skater, but he knew things could change at any time. Especially in a country that cranked out world championship skaters like it was nothing. So when the media started getting less and less forgiving, he’d noticed. 

Of fucking course he noticed. 

He had noticed and it had taken up parasitic residence in his mind. Albeit the back. But it had planted itself in there nonetheless. And in all honesty, it was  _ exhausting.  _

The stress. The anxiety. 

But he’d grown up this way. Change was just a step too big for his comfort. 

So he’d clung to what he could while trying to edge himself out of the cameras’ eyes. Something Victor had picked up rather quickly, having exchanged murmured conversations of worry with Yakov every now and then near competitions where Yuri all but disappeared out of view unless absolutely necessary. 

Which made the last scandal so… unfair. 

Yuri had really tried his best. Victor had seen the look in his eyes when he sat down next to Victor, staring straight ahead. 

He’d won second, but Victor knew it wasn’t about that. He’d kept his answers short and to the point, reigning in any sort of frivolous commentary in attempts to speed up the interview. The man really had come out of nowhere, and in Yuri’s defense, he only decked the guy after a good moment or two when it become painfully apparent that security wouldn’t be arriving soon. It had been nothing more than a wrong time wrong place type situation and that was what Victor and Yuuri had promoted to all of the mics that had been shoved in their face in the days following. 

But it was the straw that broke the camel’s back and things needed to change. 

“Yura.” 

“Hm?” the neutral face was getting a little discomforting. 

“I am sorry. I hope you know that.” 

That definitely threw Yuri for a loop as his brows furrowed. 

“It’s not an easy transition. It doesn’t help you’re getting it all at once at age eighteen instead of when you were younger. I hate having to change you, but it’s just how it is in this field. You know?” 

Yuri nodded slowly. 

“I-” he met Victor’s eyes. 

“I don’t know if I can change that much. They’re everywhere and I just fuck things up a lot.” 

The sudden honesty felt like a blow to the gut. 

“I know. I understand.” 

“Do you?” the blonde crossed his arms defensively, pointedly quirking a brow.    

“Of course. Yura. I’ve been at this for nearly twenty years. I had to learn things too, you know.” 

That was true… 

“The media. They’re… They’re certainly a formidable force.” Victor paused as their server returned with their drinks. 

“Thank you.” he nodded with a bright smile. 

The server smiled back. 

The smile fell the moment the young man walked away. 

“They really started showing their interest in me around when I was thirteen? I was still in the juniors circuit.” he took a sip of his ice water. 

“I started winning a lot, and they wanted to know more about me. I’d have people hang around the rink all the time, and honestly, it was really nerve racking in the beginning. They’d comment on just about everything. Anything from how my practice went that day to whether or not I looked like a mess that day. My hair. My clothes. The way I looked.  _ Especially  _ my resting face, when I zone out during breaks. They’d talk about how I talked. You know how practice is. You’re focused but you’re tired and a lot of the times things aren’t going the way you want them to go.” Yuri stirred his straw in circles, obviously absorbed in what the older skater was saying. 

They had a point of overlap. Victor probably understood Yuri better than anyone else at the rink, and that was important. 

“I’d have good days and I’d have bad days but they’d always try to talk to me whenever they could. But I’m thirteen. On good days I’m excited. I’ll be talking a mile a minute. On bad days I don’t want to talk. I just want to be left alone. But eventually they started becoming more and more unforgiving. The gossip magazines were the worst. Nikiforov this and Nikiforov that.” Yuuri nodded from beside him. 

He knew that feeling a little too well, with just how easily people seem to slip into gossip about him. Even when he was around!

“And one weekend, during pre-competition week practices, I fell hard. I was tired, and it was a jump combination that wasn’t sticking. They saw me fall and somehow they heard me curse. And about five failed tried later, Yakov sent me off the ice. He told me I was done for the day and to calm myself down and come back tomorrow. As you can imagine, that didn’t sit well with me. I grabbed my guards and walked away. I didn’t answer a single question but I kept it together until I got to the locker room. And then I exploded. I took my skates off and threw them, guards and all. But apparently, a few of the journalists tailed me and were watching because he caught the door a crack. I came back the next morning and  _ everyone  _ knew. It was posted across so many gossip columns. And that’s when Yakov stepped in and told me I needed to shape up.” he paused again when he spied the server returning to take their order. 

“Do you know what you want?” 

Yuri nodded. 

“I’ll have the golubtsky.” he paused a moment before adding a quieter “please.” 

“I’ll have the Solyanka without the bread.” 

“I’ll have the Khinkali.” Yuuri finished, handing the server all three menus. 

The young man hesitated a moment, but long enough for Victor to catch on. 

“Can I help you?” his smile was back on his face. 

“I-I’m really sorry. I know it’s a hassle, but would you all be okay with...movingtables?” 

“Moving tables?” Victor asked neutrally. 

The server tapped his earpiece. 

“We just got flagged that there is a table of journalists coming in. There’s a spot toward the corner that would give you more privacy.” 

“Oh. Thank you! Yes please.” Victor nodded, taking his cup before standing. 

“Follow me.”

* * *

 

“So you got the ‘shape up’ lecture when you were thirteen?” Yuuri asked in concern. 

“How bad could you have possibly been?” 

Victor chuckled. 

“It wasn’t so much as how bad I was. I was actually a pretty well behaved kid. My parents were um.. What’s the word?” he tapped the side of his nose. 

“Oh yes! Authoritative. They had very little patience for pubescent attitudes. My father was a higher ranking lawyer so impressions were everything. I grew up in that sort of environment so it made things easier for me.”

“You have authoritarian styled parents.” Yuuri corrected. 

“Ah, yes.” Victor nodded. 

“So it was more so because I was getting popular so fast. You know, the higher you get, the further you fall. It could have been anything that knocked me down, so Yakov told me to get rid of anything that would let them.” 

“Shit…” Yuuri muttered darkly. 

“Which is what he wants from you Yura. Don’t give them bullets.” 

“I’m not.” Victor quirked a brow at the sudden scowl, which Yuri wiped off immediately. 

“It’s not healthy.” Victor started clearing the sudden beat of silence. 

“You’ll find ways to cope. But for now, think of it as putting on a costume. As long as you’re outside, give them the Yuri Plisetsky they want to see.” 

Yuri looked away. 

“Most importantly.” Victor’s expression softened. 

“You can’t just lock yourself away, Yura. I know what you’re doing. This shrinking, it’s not okay.” 

Yuri swallowed thickly, still unable to make eye contact. 

“The past couple of competitions and the interviews. I see you, and I’m  _ worried  _ Yura. I don’t know about you, but you’re like a little brother to me and it pains me to see you try to hide yourself away.” 

No one mentioned the way Yuri’s fists balled tighter or the way his jaw clenched. 

“I can tell you for sure that I understand. It’s hard. It sucks. But you’re Yuri Plisetsky and trying to make yourself smaller is an absurdly disrespectful thing to do to yourself. You deserve better.” 

Yuri could see the sincerity out of his periphery, and in all honesty, it made his gut tighten in a way that felt so very foreign. Especially within the recent days. The idea that someone really was there for him. Victor, and Katsudon he knew as well, truly actually loved him enough to go out of their way despite his rough attitude as of late. And in all honesty, it hurt in a way too. That was evident by the stinging in his waterline. 

Days upon days of reading through articles that painted him as a heartless brat. Jaded beyond his years and not fit for such a graceful sport. 

He’d been compared to both Katsudon and Victor more recently as well. And as much as he didn’t want to believe it himself, that hurt too. The way that everyone made it so painfully obvious that he was standing under a sizable shadow. Victor and Yuuri who could whoo crowds with their grace on and off the ice. The two who seem to always know what to say and how to act. 

He was only human. Of course it bothered him. 

But to hear those words of sincerity come out of Victor’s mouth broke down a wall he hadn’t even been aware he’d created around his feelings. 

But of course it would be Victor who found that out as well. The fact that no one had really ever taught Yuri Plisetsky how to handle his emotions in a healthy way. Because when he was at his worst, everyone just assumed it was just puberty. But with puberty long gone, there were no more curtains to hide behind and it bothered him. 

“And I know it feels like Yakov is pushing you to be me, but I promise you, Yura. That’s not the case. I wouldn’t ever dream of trying to get you to be me. You’re an independent person who just happens to have a few unsavory habits. Everyone does. You’re just being picked on because of how good you are. Because you’re amazing and people love to bring amazing people down.” 

He nodded blankly, willing the tears to stay at bay. 

He was  _ not  _ about to cry. He was eighteen damnit. He needed to handle the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it made him. 

“And that means you can cry, Yuri. You shouldn’t have to bottle up your emotions. Trust me. The opinions of a few journalists don’t trump your mental health.” 

They paused once more as the food came out, table a flurry with hands on utensils

“I’ll say this once, so I need you to really listen.” 

Yuri didn’t reply, opting to just squeeze and unsqueeze his balled fists. 

“In all honesty, you don’t really need to do  _ every  _ single thing I’ve told you to do. But what you  _ do  _ need is to learn to love and embrace yourself. You owe yourself at least that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, wasn't really technically suppose to get that emotional/angsty, but the song came on and I was like; OOooOOoOo


	11. Grounded I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @Staronet  
> This one will hopefully be non angsty with extra fluff!!

“Yuuri. Love! You’re here early.” The boards took the brunt of the ice spray as Victor came to a quick stop, almost vaulting himself over in his haste to reach for a hug. 

One that Yuuri returned gladly, albeit wobbly as he caught the tall skater before momentum drove him over. 

“Wait, no.” Victor’s brow scrunched in momentary confusion.  

“Today’s your day off, isn’t it?” 

Yuuri nodded. 

“Yakov called earlier and asked if I could cover for the junior skaters’ ballet session today because their instructor called in sick.” 

He held up a black folder emblazoned in gold with the rink’s logo. 

“I needed to stop by anyway. I need Yakov to sign a few documents before I leave tomorrow.” 

“I still feel like I should just cancel and go too.” The corners of Victor’s mouth drooped as guilt flashed across his face.  

“Vitya, I assure you he won’t hold it personally. I’ve already told them you’ve got a camp coming up and then a competition so you honest to god can’t take off time these next three weeks.” Yuuri rolled his eyes with a smile. 

“And besides. Have you seen the pile of gifts in our living room? Two full boxes with my suitcase is a little extra, love.”

“ _ Extra _ ?!” Victor huffed in fake offense, gliding slowly backwards, hands over his heart with a look of sarcastic astonishment on his face. 

“Two boxes is not  _ nearly  _ enough. If I had my way there would be at  _ least  _ five.” 

“Five?!”

“Yes, five. Yuuri, darling. This is my  _ father in law  _ we are talking about. His 60th birthday and I can’t even  _ be  _ there to celebrate!” 

“It’ll be okay, Vitya. I promise. He loves you regardless and he understands the time crunch. And besides, you know they said they’d like to visit sometime this month. You can make it up then.” 

Victor clapped his hands together in agreement, smile returning to his face.” 

Yuuri couldn’t help but smile at the scene before jolting back into focus. 

“Ah! Vitya?” 

“Yes?” 

“I completely forgot to ask this when I arrived.”

“Hmmm?” Victor focused eagerly, leaning on the boards, giving Yuuri his complete attention. 

“Why is Yuri running around the rink’s parking lot pulling one of those huge tires?” 

The sound of blades scratching against the ice rose as Victor regained his balance having been thrown off completely off by the question. 

“He’s  _ still _ running?!” He asked incredulously, blue eyes wide as he searched Yuuri’s face for a lie. 

“I’m pretty sure he was mumbling Russian curse words the whole time.” 

The skater burst into a fit of laughter, bending over, hands on his knees as the laughter kept coming. 

“What did he do?” His time was bordering on worry and amusement, and seeing the love of his life nearly bent double in laughter made it hard to keep the smile off his face. 

Victor took a deep breath before straightening back up and wiped the tears that had formed in his eyes.  

“Yakov caught Yura trying to wiggle out of volunteering in the upcoming camp. Something along the lines of erasing his name off the official roster. That and the fact that he forgot to turn in the paper work for the upcoming qualifiers so there was a late fee.” 

“Oh. That’s a little harsh…” 

Victor nodded. 

“Well that and apparently he made a commotion during the junior’s session. He had to call in an interview so he was in a bad mood and one of the boys made some sort of comment about Mila so he had to set them straight. With his choice wording.”

Yuuri quirked a brow.  

_ Oh… _

“He made two of them cry.” 

They winced in unison, falling into comfortable silence. 

“Are you staying or..?”

“I’ll be here. We can go get dinner on the way home.” Yuuri nodded. 

Victor grinned.

“Perfect!” 

........-..........

Things were not going perfectly. 

His surprise was unraveling by the second as the taxi inched forward a few more inches before stopping. 

Traffic was  _ terrible _ . 

But it was okay. He was holding together fine, albeit a little tired but the thought of getting back home and taking a hot shower before cuddling in bed under the fluffy duvet sounded heavenly and was single handedly keeping him from pulling his internal screaming out externally. 

His parents had decided to go on a group trip with their friends last minute leaving Yuuri the opportunity to return back to Russia earlier than planned. 

Which was why he was stuck sitting in a Taxi amid crazy St. Petersburg traffic praying that they get there soon.  

But for the time being he stared out the window and watched the people walk by, semiconsciously going through his new step sequence for the new short program. 

......-.......

“Victor?!” 

“Yuuri?!” 

“What in the  _ world  _ is all of  _ this _ ?!”

“Darling, before you say anything else, I can explain!” 

There was a solid  _ thump  _ followed by a disgruntled “ _ fuck! _ ” 

It took Yuuri all of five seconds to absorb what had just happened. Give precious seconds before the turned his attention back to Victor. 

“What the  _ actual  _ hell is going on?!”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses as to what Victor did? The thump???


	12. Grounded II

“Are you wearing your  _ very  _ recently sharpened figure skates  _ inside  _ our house…?” Yuuri let go of the bag he’d been carrying, eying Victor’s signature gold blades in disbelief. 

More disbelief than he had when the front door open to reveal a vast expanse of shiny white  _ not  _ dark wood floors that the house originally had. 

And of course, the surprise of that had moved on to Victor’s black skates and then the obvious rink practice clothes he had on.  

It was all topped off by the look of nervous guilt that Victor was trying very hard to cover with his best camera worthy smile. 

One that Yuuri saw through immediately as his brain caught up to the ridiculous sight. 

“But not on the wood floors!” Victor scrabbled backwards, pulling the door further open before reaching for the duffle. 

“Yuri. Is that you?” Yuuri wasted no time gingerly stepping inside before making his way briskly down the hallway to the living room. 

“Um…” the blonde met Yuuri’s eyes like a deer caught in the headlights, dressed in his normal all black rink attire with skates on his feet. 

“Are you okay?” 

“...Yes…?”

The older quirked a brow. 

“You sure?” 

He nodded. 

“Good. Then maybe you and Victor can explain why the front hall and living room is hovered in glice.” He turned when he heard Victor approach, eyes catching on the sliver of kitchen and dining room flooring that caught in his peripheral.

“And the kitchen and the dining room.” He added, leveling Victor with a pointed look. 

“Where did you two even put the sofas and coffee table?” 

“Upstairs.” 

Yuuri turned to face Victor slowly but surely, face devoid of tell tale emotions. 

“Upstairs?” 

“With the dining room table and chairs.” 

There was a tense pause before Yuuri spoke, letting out an exasperated sigh. 

“I leave for five days and  _ this  _ is what happens?!”

Victor chuckled sheepishly before pausing in surprise. 

“Darling, are you  _ laughing  _ right now? Are you okay?” 

He looked concerned. Staring like Yuuri had just grown another head. 

The man in question couldn’t hide any longer, bursting into laughter as he wiggles his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it before tapping on instagram. His family was going to  _ love  _ this. 

“Victor?” he pointed the phone at the man who looked more than a little confused. 

“Yes, love?” He still answered   

“What is all of this?” Yuuri panned around the room, letting the video go to the next slide.  

“Glice…” 

“And why is all of our flooring covered in glice?” 

“Because…” Victor mumbled the ending. 

“Because what? A little louder please.” 

Victor sighed before looking up at the camera, small smile on his face as he started circling slowly around. 

“Because Yakov said we weren’t allowed back on the ice until you came back.” 

“We?” 

Yuuri panned to Yuri who skated away towards the dining room.  

“And why did Yakov do that?”

“He foundoutistolethezkeyes…” 

“He what? He found out you stole the zam keys?” 

Victor nodded with a small grimace. 

“That’s it?”

“It was after hours.” 

“I see..” the amusement was evident in his voice. 

“And Yuri?” 

“He followed me in.” 

Yuuri chuckled. 

“You know, Yakov called me earlier this week. Said something about stress and hypertension. I’m pretty sure he called you his kids at one point.” 

Victor’s eyes widened in surprise before a genuine smile bloomed across his face. 

“Did he really?!” Victor skated closer to the phone 

“Yakov! You are an  _ amazing  _ father I love you!” The camera shook as Victor twirled Yuuri around, happiness evident in his tone. 

“Yura think so as well!” 

Yuuri turned the camera to face him. 

“Siblings. Honestly. The two of them. I don’t even  _ know  _ how Yakov managed all these years.” 

He rolled his eyes before switching the camera back. 

“Now that you’ve had your fun, I want all of this gone before dinner!” 

“But  _ Yuu _ ri!” 

“No buts. Yakov grounded you as it is. So you better fix this before I call Yakov and ask him to extend the time.”

Victor recoiled in mock hurt. 

“You  _ wouldn’t. _ ” 

“Try me.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glice: fake ice floor pieces(?) look like those puzzle mats but you can skate on them. Obviously not as good as ice but still better than nothing


	13. Chapter 13

It was something of a tradition: seasonal athletes visiting other season athletes. Summer sports visiting winter sports and vice versa. It wasn’t a rule expressly noted on any contract. Not even an order, in all honesty. More for sportsmanship than anything else. 

That and the fact that, contrary to popular belief, most national level athletes did actually like and follow other sports apart from their own. And they all vaguely knew each other. Or at least  _ of  _ each other. They were bound to have met at least once in athlete galas and charity events.

It had been the reason why the national rhythmic gymnastics team received a surprise in practice audience the week before during the first week of March. It had been great fun, having  _ some  _ sort of sports related similarity. They’d even let Yuuri warm up with them, graciously giving him pointers and tips. 

They’d left with hundreds of commemorative photos and the promise from the rhythmics team to visit soon during the skating season.

It just happened that the national football team were holding outdoor practices the very next day under the bright sunny March sky. They’d clocked in an hour of ice time before making their way over, official red and white national team jackets popping against the brightest blue sky. So it was no surprise that they were spotted almost immediately as they stepped out from behind the bleachers to walk over to the sideline where the head coach was busy shouting orders at the team running drills. 

The coach had continued for a few more minutes before turning to acknowledge the three beside him staring out at the pitch in interest.

“Oh. I see we have guests. What do we owe this pleasure?” the smile was genuine as he held out his hand to shake with all three, greeting them individually. 

“We heard from someone that you all were practicing outside today. Thought it would be fun to swing by.” Victor answered with an equally genuine smile. 

As much flack as the coach had received over his “intensity” towards the athletes, he really wasn’t a bad man. In a way he vaguely resembled Yakov with his tough love but gold heart. It was an important sport and he pushed them accordingly. But outside of practice he was known to be well respected and good natured. And while he did have his scary moments, it was beyond evident from interviews and his actions that he was a coach that truly loved and respected his athletes. 

Victor like the man because of the fact that his respect wasn’t picky like many others’ were. Especially knowing the ‘type’ of person Victor was. That Yuri and Yuuri were, along with so many others in the country who were forced to keep that part hidden. In all honesty, the man just didn’t care. If it didn’t harm his team and if respect was shown to him, it was almost always reciprocated. 

“Thank you for taking time out to visit. The support means a lot.” the coach smiled, looking back out to the pitch. 

“Our pleasure. It’s off season anyway.” 

They lapsed into silence, staring intently at the athletes pushing themselves as they ran drill after drill. 

But the companionable silence didn’t last long as there was a scuffle somewhere behind where the four stood on the bleachers. And before they could prepare themselves, the throng of correspondents and photographers swarmed around, coming uncomfortably close uncomfortably fast trapping them in and disrupting the drills. The players on the pitch froze, caught completely off guard by the sudden shouting and sounds of cameras clicking. 

_ “Victor Nikiforov! Is it true that-”  _

_ “Plisetsky, over here!”  _

_ “-atsuki! Do you plan on staying here in-” _

_ “Will you all be supporting the team during the summer Oly-” _

“Woah. Woah. WOAH!” the coach shouted, bringing his whistle to his mouth to blow a sharp shrill to stop the barrage. 

“You all are disrupting this practice. The press section is over there-” he pointed to a lower corner of the bleachers. 

“Press aren’t allowed outside the bleachers. That’s a rule! 

There was a beat of silence before the group burst back into noise as two athletes jogged over warily having waited to see how things were going to play out.

“Michavich! Are you ready for the-”

“Swins! Over here! How is your injury? Will you be-” 

And in the midst of the chaotic flurry of camera clicks and shouted bombardment of questions, someone had simultaneously shoved Swins the vice captain to the side and latched on to Yuri’s collar, abruptly pulling him sideways over his own feet and let go as the blonde went crashing into the still staggering vice captain who nearly toppled over all together as he rushed to grab on to Yuri. Victor did the same, moving with scary fast reflects to hoist Yuri up before he ate pitch. 

But they weren’t fast enough, and the damage had been done, and neither athlete had to look down to realize what had happened the moment the sharp bark of pain left Yuri’s mouth. He lifted his leg almost immediately, clutching on to both athletes for support while hopping on one foot as sharp throbbing pain bloomed near his ankle. 

“Yura!”

“Are you okay?!” 

The two exclaimed at the same time. 

Yuri just hissed as he accidentally moved his foot, sending off a tidal wave of throbbing pain.

“I think I rolled it. Tripped over it when some asshole shoved me.” he lifted his head to glare furiously at the group of press who had all gone silent. 

Victor nudged Yuri to Swins who obliged immediately, helping Yuri hop towards him, leaving Victor free to reach out and grab the one who did it by the camera collar.. The man didn’t even stand a chance, tripping over his own feet in hast to stay upright as Victor tugged with scary strength. 

“I do believe-” the hissed through gritted teeth, working to keep his anger in check. 

“-that you were told you weren’t allowed on the pitch. That you were disrupting practice.” 

The man swallowed thickly as Victor’s hands inched closer to his neck looking like he had absolutely  _ no  _ qualms about ending the man.

“So what the  _ hell  _ were you thinking?” 

The man floundered, looking between Victor and the coach before taking a glance back. That was his first mistake. 

The second was the goading smirk when the man turned back, meeting Victor dead in the eyes. 

“What? Are you gonna hurt me? With all those cameras pointed at you? Look. I’ll admit that maybe I shoved a little hard. But the kid’s a national athlete. Shouldn’t he have better balance?” 

Victor took a deep breath as everyone on the sideline stared. He  _ had  _ to be joking. 

The man met Victor’s eyes once more

“But you sure it was really me that pushed the kid? I mean, you probably don’t know this, kid but; this line of work is real stressful. Triggers that-that-uh.. What’s it called.. Uh- oh! That disassociation disorder or something. Probs wasn’t even the real me. Sorry.” the man shrugged. 

“You mean dissociative identity disorder...?” Yuuri corrected dryly. This man was falling to new lows using  _ that  _ card. What a sneaky bastard… 

Victor took one last hard gaze at the man before releasing him, arms falling to his sides as he bowed his head. he started to laugh. A scoff turned chortle as he threw his head back in mirth. 

The man chuckled along. 

He was laughing and out of nowhere he was on the ground holding a freshly broken bloody nose as Victor walked it off, shaking out his fist before pacing back, gasping in shock at the blood cover chin. 

“Oh my GOD! Are you alright? You’re bleeding!” Victor stared in faux concern. 

“What the FUCK is your problem!? Are you fucking insane?!” the man shouted, sending a spray of blood towards Victor who sidestepped easily. 

“Excuse me?” he answered innocently. 

“You broke my nose!” 

“ _ I  _ did?! Are you sure? Oh no.. maybe I did..” he crouched at the man’s side and put his hand on the man’s shoulder, making solemn eye contact. 

“I am  _ so  _ sorry. You probably don’t know but this line of work is real stressful. Triggers that-that-uh.. What’s it called.. Uh- oh! That disassociation disorder or something. Probs wasn’t even the real me. Sorry.” The serious tone made it better than any mimic as the man realized his own words were being use against him.

Victor gave the man’s shoulder one last encouraging pat and stood back up, turning to address the cameras. 

“I suggest you all follow the rules and get yourself off the pitch. Who knows what my other selves might do?” there was a brief beat of silence before they clammored back to their designated area, leaving the bloody nose man alone still spread out on the sideline. 

“And you.” Victor turned back around, addressing the man from his standing position near his head this time.

“If you  _ ever  _ touch my kid again-” he tapped the man’s neck with his sneakers. 

“They won’t be sneakers next time. They’ll be freshly sharpened blades. And it won’t be the side. I can and will stomp you and dye the rink red with your blood. Do I make myself clear? 

The man nodded furiously, terrified eyes not able to leave the shoe uncomfortably near his jugular. 

* * *

 

They couldn’t even be mad. The photo was genuinely sweet. 

A photo of Victor standing to Yuri’s left while glaring daggers towards the press section. It had been a quick moment of various quick moments as Victor continued to check to make sure no one was somewhere they weren’t meant to be. Yuri sat, absorbed in the interteam practice game, exchanging banter with Yuuri who was getting absorbed. 

The angle was perfect and the emotions were varied, but it was the comment that really brought things together. 

**_@V-Nikiforov, domesticity suits you. #dadgoals._ **


End file.
